


numbed in moscow

by hingabee



Series: kgb fun [1]
Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Gen, Other, a fanfiction of a fanfiction, i guess theres implied mentions of past abuse bc volgin, mantis is sad and drunk, ocelot cleans up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-28 04:34:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12598248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hingabee/pseuds/hingabee
Summary: "Don't touch me."For a moment Ocelot just stared at the kid without any emotion; long enough for Bogomol to get visibly uncomfortable; but then laughed and twirled his mustache between the gloved fingers of his free hand."But isn't that what you're here for?"





	numbed in moscow

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Miscellany](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13598175) by [PunishedPyotr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunishedPyotr/pseuds/PunishedPyotr). 



> hi this is literally just me crying over aireyvs white diamond au; specifically the mantis & ocelot kgb backstory.  
> also please bear with my english, im not a native speaker :') 
> 
> (also yes the title is just a portishead song title because i am an uncreative slob)

Ocelot was sitting at the old wooden table cleaning his gun when he noticed someone approaching his hotel room door; the sound of uneven steps dragging over the dirty hallway carpet.  
Generally he preferred more... respectable establishments to spend his nights at but the tiny room he had booked for tonight was passable and fit just right for the few days of business he planned to stay in Moscow for. He slowly put his revolver down; a S & W Model 29, already polished and not actually in the need to be cleaned, though the whole process was more of a nightly ritual instead of a necessity;  
over the years it simply had become a habit. Ocelot waited and listened; the person outside had stopped in front of his door and seemed to either be spying on him (and admittedly doing a very bad job at that) or to be hesitating to knock. 

A few moments passed and finally a muffled, incoherent curse was to be heard and Ocelot closed his eyes and sighed, rubbing his temples in theatrical exasperation.  
  
"So tell me, how did you find out where I am staying this time?"  
  
No answer.  
  
"What are you waiting for then? Let yourself in."  
  
Silence.  
  
Ocelot waited for a bit and was about to raise his voice again when he heard a 'click' and turned his head to watch the door slowly being pushed open. Despite the room being only dimly lit he immediately noticed something wrong in his visitors posture. It was simply... _uncharacteristic_.  
  
"Bogomol,"  
  
This time Ocelot addressed him by name and got the reaction he was angling for; the boy seemed startled for a second but then heedlessly kicked the door behind him shut and stalked into the room on shaking legs. He looked terrible; almost drowning in that giant coat of his that Ocelot knew he only wore reluctantly; skinny limbs barely covered appropriately for the biting cold outside and those greasy red curls covering most of his masked face. Bogomol didn't say anything, just stared into the room while gently swaying left and right like a tree in the breeze.  
  
"I did not invite you. Nor did I notice you following me," Ocelot smiled.  
"You're getting better at sneaking past me." He wasn't scolding the kid, not praising him either; it was merely an observation.  
  
Bogomol glared at him.  
  
"It stinks in here." he finally said and didn't even try to hide the slur in his voice.  
  
"Well," Ocelot replied and turned back to his revolver. "You don't smell particulary well either, huh? I told you to stop drinking this much; you already pose enough of a risk at work."  
He carefully placed the guns back into the leather suitcase he carried with him solely for the safe transport of his weaponry. Well, it also was custom made and one of the few luxuries he allowed himself these days.  
  
"I am not going to clean up after you if you decide to show up like... this." Ocelot nodded in Bogomols general direction and wrinkled his nose. 

"I... had another dream." Bogomol clasped at his coat nervously and looked at his feet.  
  
At that, Ocelot stilled and eyed him carefully before motioning for him to elaborate.  
  
"He is hurting. I can feel him... ." The sound of Bogomol's uneven breath rasping through the filter of his mask followed. "Sometimes I can hear him too, Ocelot. He... ."  
Bogomol stopped himself and made a pathetic noise before sinking to the floor.  
  
Ocelot scoffed and stood to walk towards the boy and knelt down beside him, a twinge of genuine annoyance in his voice as he spoke.  
  
"You know what I think?"  
  
Bogomol sniffed and shook his head while helplessly running his fingers over the coarse carpet for some kind of physical stimulation to distract himself from his misery.  
  
"I think that you are drunk and hysterical. I am calling a taxi that will take you home."  
  
With that Ocelot stood up again and was about to walk to the hotel room phone when something grasped at his pant leg. He looked down.  
Bogomol was staring up at him through his mask lenses, a mix of frustration and fear in his eyes, and shook his head almost too slow for it to be recognisable as a ‚no‘. Ocelot sighed, shook him off wordlessly and turned back to his desk to busy himself with some paperwork; ignoring the boy might as well be enough to get rid of him. Generally he didn't have a problem with occasionally keeping an eye on Bogomol and arranging a few things now and then, but lately, ever since he had seen that photograph, the kid had become a real nuisance. Sure; he managed to show up at work on time and performed well enough for it to not become Ocelot's problem (except for the one time where Ocelot had to make sure nobody figured out Bogomol's real identity; some of their smarter colleagues at the KGB still were suspicious about the Hicks incident) but... . In his free time Bogomol had picked up a habit of drinking and (at least Ocelot assumed so by his unusual behaviour) consuming all kinds of random medication and pills; pretty much everything that he could get his hands on. For now it was simply annoying but he was well aware that the boy's reckless behaviour could easily escalate into something much worse. Not that Ocelot held any sympathies for Bogomol; the kid simply posed the risk of becoming... inconvenient to keep around.  
  
"Ocelot, please." Bogomol croaked from his spot on the floor. "You need to help me, Eli's dying, I can feel it. Feel him. I can't stand this anymore, I... -"  
  
Ocelot didn't bother looking up before he interrupted him, still busying himself with filing a report of a job he'd finished a few days ago.  
  
"What do you want me to do? You _know_ that I can't do more than I already have, more than I am already doing." He idly scratched his chin and coldly smiled down at his papers. "Say, Bogomol, what are you really here for?" Silence followed; Bogomol, clearly just now becoming aware of his subconscious reason for his presence in Ocelot's hotel room, curled up on the floor as if in defeat and shame.  
"I thought so. Maybe you should make some friends, get your mind off things." Ocelot was well aware of how ridiculous that suggestion was, but his patience was running low. "Isn't it embarrassing for you to hang around an old man all day?"  
  
Again Bogomol didn't dignify him with a response; Ocelot could just hear him shift around on the carpet behind him. The next time Ocelot checked his watch it was already after midnight; he decided that it was time for their little play date to end. He got up and stalked over to where Bogomol was still curled in on himself on the ground and roughly grabbed him by the wrist to pull him into a vertical position. Bogomol tried to crawl away from Ocelot but he was clearly too weak (or more likely exhausted) to free himself from his grasp and hissed at him, eyes narrowed.  
  
"Don't touch me."  
  
For a moment Ocelot just stared at the kid without any emotion; long enough for Bogomol to get visibly uncomfortable; but then laughed and twirled his mustache between the gloved fingers of his free hand.  
  
"But isn't that what you're here for?"  
  
Bogomol looked up at him with a mixture of shock and disgust in his eyes but didn't move away, only turned his head to the side and huffed.  
  
„I don’t need you. I am fine by myself.“  
  
„You don’t really believe that, do you now?“, Ocelot chuckled and tightened his grip on Bogomol's hand slightly to pull him up and hold him steady. For a moment Bogomol seemed to hold his resistance, then went slack and quiet against him.  
  
„Thats just what I thought.“

 

 

The drive to Bogomol’s apartment was uneventful: the boy simply pressed himself against the window and stared at the dirty sleet covering the sidewalks and passing by vehicles. A few streets away from reaching their destination Ocelot told the taxi driver to stop the car and payed him generously. 

„I can walk.“ Bogomol spat as he got out and stumbled away before Ocelot could even hold out his arm to him. He managed a few metres on his own and then slumped down onto the wet pavement. Without any further comments Ocelot half carried half dragged him the rest of the way; up the stairs and into Bogomol's apartment.  
  
With a quick glance at the dirty kitchen Ocelot immediately went for Bogomol's bedroom and looked down at the kids brooding face to check if he was still concious before unceremoniously dropping him on the mattress.  
  
"You're soaked. Get changed and dry your hair, even with your powers you're of no use when you're sick, Bogomol."  
  
There was no reaction; Bogomol had buried his face in the sheets and seemed to be idly rubbing circles into the fabric with his hand. Ocelot exhaled, shrugged off his coat and threw it over the only chair in the room; it was already covered with various items of clothing and seemed to be drowning under their weight. Without further ado Ocelot grabbed Bogomol by the shoulders and manhandled him into a sitting position to start undressing him.  
  
„I hate you… .“ Was the slurred response to that but Ocelot didn’t reply and managed to free the boy from his coat and shirt. Bogomol didn’t stop him but took the opportunity to complain drunkenly about the smell of Ocelots cologne before starting to randomly drop a few English insults that he probably had learned from Eli before they had separated.  
  
„Are you done?“ Ocelot mumbled dryly as he started taking off Bogomol's shoes and pants and frowned at the sight of much too skinny, pale legs. „You have lost weight again. Do you expect me to spoon feed you now?“  
  
Allowing himself to sigh, Ocelot grabbed the cleanest shirt he could find (it was very big and could almost pass a dress; frankly Ocelot wouldn’t be surprised if it was, he had seen Bogomol wear a skirt before after all) and threw it into the kids lap before getting a towel from the bathroom. When he stepped back into the bedroom Bogomol had managed to put on the shirt (admittedly; the wrong way around, but at least he was clothed now) and was sulking on his bed.  
  
„Don’t.“ he growled as Ocelot went to undo the straps of his mask and curled a bit in on himself.  
  
„Then do it yourself. Here.“  
  
The towel was carelessly dropped on Bogomol's head and Ocelot turned away and walked towards the chair with his coat when the door abruptly slammed shut next to him. The lights flickered warningly.  
  
„Stop treating me like this.“ Bogomol was breathing heavily, digging his fingers into his scalp while staring at Ocelots back. „I am not a child. I can take care of myself.“  
  
„And this,“ Ocelot gestured towards the empty vodka bottles and dirty clothing on the floor with a bored expression. „Is your way of establishing your independence?“  
  
Bogomol snarled and sat up to speak, but Ocelot continued, not even giving him the chance to defend himself.  
  
„That is also the reason you follow me? Show up at my hotel room completely wasted; to establish that you do not need my help?“ Ocelot scoffed and turned to face him directly. „No; it is because you are lonely and depressed and do not have the patience to form proper relationships with people. Instead you come to me to get what you need; be it my support or,“ he shrugged on his coat. „what you mistake as affection. This is the last time I say it; if you continue like this, you may or may not end up back at the university. Now, open the door, Bogomolchek.“  
  
For a moment the two of them just stared at each other at silence.  
  
Then with a loud 'bang' several lightbulbs in the room exploded; covering them in a fine spray of pulverised glass. Ocelot could still make out Bogomol's silhouette in the dark, but it wasn't just for the fact that his eyes tended to get used to darkness quickly; there were tiny waves of electricity; _lightning_ ; dancing across Bogomol's body and bed.  
  
"Bogomol... ." Ocelot surprised himself with the way his breath hitched as he took a step back, fingers instinctively curling around his revolver as his shoulders met the wood of the door. Whatever the kid was doing, it looked a bit, no, _almost_ like... .  
  
"I don't want to go back there." Bogomol's voice sounded distant.  
  
As if for emphasis the lightning crackled dangerously before suddenly disappearing, prompting Ocelot to let out a sigh of relief.  
  
"Fine. You won't." He said as he stepped through the door that had opened behind him. "But you don't want Eli to see you like this when he is recovered, do you?"

 

 

Ocelot had already been long gone; called another taxi and driven back to his hotel when Bogomol, still sitting on his bed in the dark, quietly murmured to himself:  
  
"No. No, I don't."  



End file.
